Perspective
by Chaos Supernova
Summary: There are no such things as heroes and villains. (Rewrite of To Be Evil.)
1. Prelude

Perspective

Prelude

There are no such things as heroes and villains.

It's all a matter of perspective, really. To so-called "heroes", their enemies are villains. To so-called "villains", their enemies are also villains. We decide who the heroes and villains are.

There's an expression – "history is written by the victors". And it's true, because that's where we even get the notion of heroes and villains. The people who write history always call themselves the heroes and the people who oppose them are always the villains.

People can't be classified into categories like heroes and villains, good and evil. We're both. It's not possible to be entirely good or entirely evil, because what defines good and evil? People do good things and have bad intentions, and people do bad things but have good intentions.

Therefore, there are no such things as heroes and villains.


	2. Chapter 1

Perspective

Chapter One

Don't you ever think you deserve _more_?

Not in a greedy, power-hungry way, but at least to be sitting at home with a cup of tea watching TV and not being stuck on the subway?

At least I had my Metro Card, and I didn't have to pay for the ride. Then again, if I knew I'd be stuck down here, I would've expected to _be_ paid just for enduring it.

The worst thing is, the father of arguably my best friend is the one holding the subway up. Doctor Doom. Maybe if I could just get him to notice me...

I frantically try to push my way through the crowd. Everyone has their phone out, trying to get a good picture of the action. Idiots. That never really made sense to me. You're missing whatever you want to see by trying to capture it forever. Irony is funny that way.

"Hey!" "Sorry." "Watch it, kid!" "Sorry." It goes like this until I get to the front of the subway car. Doctor Doom is fighting off Iron Fist, and it looks like he's getting beat pretty badly. Iron Fist punches him in the chest, sending shock waves up the vibranium. I wince.

We learned in Hero Studies that the best way to take down Iron Fist is by using your intelligence, not your strength. In short? Poison. Poison is a very handy tool in fighting that most people don't realize.

I keep a few spare canisters (that are made of adamantium, the strongest material known to man) of knock-out gas in my backpack. We get daily immunizations to different poisons and gasses every year, so we don't have to worry about any of the gas and poisons we use affecting us. The "we" in question being a school requirement.

I take it off my shoulder and dig through the smallest pocket, at the very front. It's where I keep all of my weapons that I take to school. You have to prepared. I pluck out the vial of minty green gas swirling around in there.

"CODE GREEN!" I scream to Doctor Doom, then press the release button. The minty gas quickly fills the entire car. (It's created with some sort of self replicating thing. I don't know how it works.) Doctor Doom makes a sharp kick to Iron Fist's solar plexus, which is how you force someone to breath in whatever gas you use. I learned that in Combat Techniques, which is taught by my dad. (It's not as bad as it sounds, though.)

Iron Fist looks at me – everyone does – before his eyes roll up into his head. It's clear he's surprised, though. Everyone is. Not many people expect a 15 year old boy to throw knock out gas in the middle of a superhero fight. I AM NOT A TERRORIST. I'm helping arguably my best friend's father out so he doesn't get arrested or worse.

After it's clear everyone's asleep, Doctor Doom – well, Mr. Von Doom to me – glances around him, and then at me. "Dylan?" he asks. "What are you doing here?"

"I take the subway home after school," I say. "No offense or anything, but I could be using this time to work on my algebra homework."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you would be on here. But thank you for being here anyway." He walks over to a man in a fancy suit, rolls him over, and takes his metal briefcase.

He nods at the man. "He didn't pay me back for the technology he bought from me."

"So you tried to stun him, and that was when Iron Fist showed up?" I guess.

"Yes, more or less. It's hard not to make a scene when – well, when you're in a vibranium metal suit from head to toe, but he is alone when he takes the subway, and it's the easiest time to take someone out when they're alone." I nod in approval. That's another thing we were taught in Combat Techniques.

"Makes sense. Now, if you'll excuse me, I probably should get home...somehow..." The subway car has stopped, someone pulled the emergency lever that has been installed in all subway cars specifically for this reason. The emergency lever stops the car and redirects any cars traveling on the same route.

He hands me a stack of hundreds and a remote control. "For your help. You're very promising, Dylan. I'm sure there would be demand for you as a mercenary." Ah, so it seems Doctor Doom wants me to follow in my father's villainous footsteps. Taskmaster – aka Tony Masters, aka my dad – isn't a villain, per say, but a mercenary. Mercs aren't villains or heroes, they do what they want. And I suppose I'd like that, a chance to use my powers and make a living, but at the same time, it would be nice to go to college and get married and have a normal life. Though it would be incredibly hard to shake all of this off.

I don't have to worry about it until the end of my 2nd year, though. Because if I choose not to do anything with my powers, I'll finish out my high school education at a normal high school, or be home schooled. Though my 2nd year is coming to a close, which means I do have to worry about it. Dammit.

I try to keep my mind off it. It comes up at the dinner table sometimes, but I always just brush off my mom and dad with "maybes" and "I guess so"s. And so far it's worked.

I finger the remote. "What's this do?" I ask, but Doctor Doom isn't here anymore. I hear the distant drone of a helicopter. "GEE, THANKS!" I yell. It's not the most polite thing to say to a world renowned supervillain, but he could've took me with him.

he weird thing about is that it's only one single button.

The weird thing about is that it's only one single button. I sigh and press it. Nothing happens.

Until something does. My body starts to feel all tingly, then I realize that I don't have a hand anymore. It just...vanished. There's not even blood where my stump is, it's just skin. Then it starts to spread to my entire body, and before I know it I'm in my living room.

Dad's watching me, sitting on the sofa. "What the _hell_ was that?" I whisper-yell.

"Language, Dylan. And it was something Victor made for me. Destabilizing and re-arranging atoms over a distance. Remarkable, isn't it?"

"Remarkably terrifying. So it's basically teleportation?"

"In a nutshell, yes. You're late," he says, looking me over.

"Yes, because Mr. Von Doom stopped the subway car I was in by accident to get to this one guy who didn't pay him for something. Iron Fist showed up to stop him, I used some of my knock-out gas. Then I got money. What's for dinner?"

"You're excused, then. Good work. And we're having Chicken Parmesan."

This pleases me. I like Chicken Parmesan. I set my backpack on the coffee table and head upstairs to put my money away.

My room isn't like many other teenage boys' rooms: it's neat, doesn't have much furniture in it, and there's no unnecessary things, which is just the way I like it. No distractions, which doesn't really matter because pretty much all I do in my room is sleep.

I don't have any siblings and my parents aren't home a lot, so all of the house is mine, usually. This is a rare day off for them – my dad's a teacher and my mom's a lawyer, so they have really busy schedules.

I type the combination in for my floor safe, hidden under a beanbag chair. (It's used mostly for sleeping, when I'm too tired to actually haul myself into bed.) I put the money in there, where it sits on more stacks of hundreds exactly like it. I've done a few freelance jobs for my dad and his colleagues, nothing major, just some stuff like I did with Doctor Doom, I'd be hidden in the crowd providing backup. Never something on my own, or super serious.

I think even if I don't decide to become a mercenary, I'm pretty well assured for college. Or whatever I decide to do after I graduate. Point is, money's covered. Which is a good thing. I can't legally drive yet, and it's not something that's really being taught in school, but I'm probably going to buy a car with it, something fancy like a Ferrari or a Porsche.

I go back downstairs and sink into the recliner, and Dad is watching a football game and Mom's almost finished dinner. I never understood how people were surprised when supervillains or people generally regarded as evil got married, started families, etcetera. I mean, they're people, just like everyone else, and they have hobbies other than plotting to take over the world or whatever. (Dad's really into sports.) And some of them are actually pretty good looking.

Apparently Tony and Donna had been a thing since high school, and even when my mom found out my dad did some pretty dangerous work for a living, she agreed to marry him anyway, because she loved him and knew he wasn't evil or whatever, it was what he wanted to do and agreed to do. Thus there was little me.

Dad and some of his colleagues started a school for training super-powered children. Not like S.H.I.E.L.D's crap where it's all like "You accept our invitation we own you and you must do whatever we tell you", it's an actual school where kids can enroll and learn to defend themselves from people wanting to kill them for whatever reason, whether it's because of their power or their parents or their past. One of our only conditions is that you absolutely cannot go around as a superhero, fighting so called "evil". If you enroll at E.V.I.L Academy (haha, pun _not_ intended) then you have to take an oath to never, ever betray the Academy or your classmates. Your classmates are like family. (Sort of. In a weird, incest-y way. Actually, just forget I ever said anything.)

We do recruitment just like S.H.I.E.L.D. Though instead of guilt tripping our recruits into joining us, we respectfully leave them alone and do a brief memory wipe of the conversation. (It's been tested and has no side effects and everything. We have some of the finest minds at the Academy.)

The majority of us, though, are children of our villainous parents. My arguably best friend Drew is the son of Doctor Doom. My other arguably best friend, Ben Welles, is the son of Mesmero. Then there are the recruits, such as my last arguably best friend, Clay Ambrose, who took on the mantle of Carnage after the symbiote found him and bonded to him or whatever it is symbiotes do. We managed to get him instead of S.H.I.E.L.D because we were friends in middle school, and once I told him we had a chance to go to the same high school, he took it, and besides, the Academy actually gets you a stunningly good education. Plus the fancy private school names look great on resumes.

The Academy is funded by villains. There's a tuition fee for children of villains, while if you're a recruit, you get a scholarship. Villains don't mind paying the fee. It's not like they're short on money.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when my mom waves a oven gloved hand in front of my face. "Dyls, dinner?"

"Right." I jump out of the recliner and sit down at the table. I start scooping out my chicken. "How was your day?" Mom asks me.

"Normal," I say, in between bites. "Mr. Von Doom hijacked the subway car I was in, so that's why I was late. Some guy on there that owed him money was alone so he was going to take him out and get it back, but then Iron Fist showed up and was beating him, surprisingly-"

"Victor hasn't really seen much action lately, due to teaching," Dad explains.

"Shush, Dad, it's rude to interrupt. Anyway, so Doctor Doom's getting his butt kicked so I use some of the knockout gas in my backpack – stored in adamantium containers, Mom – and I'm immunized and he has a mask on, so we're the only ones left awake. He gave me some money and a weird teleportation-y thingy."

Mom nods. She's used to this. Most mothers would be freaking out and calling the police if their child told this story to them, but my mom is not a normal mom. I like her like that. "Speaking of money," she says, and I know what's going to be next, and I don't want to think about it, "have you given what you're going to study next year any thought? If you don't want to continue at the Academy, we're fine with it, you know."

We've had this talk before and I do understand, it doesn't make the decision any less hard, though. "I know," I say. "I mean, I want to continue and all, I want to do something with my powers, but at the same time I don't, I just want to be normal, and, well, it's hard."

Mom looks at me with one of those mom-stares like "Oh, honey, I wish you didn't have to go through this". "Dylan, there's nothing wrong with continuing. You know I'll support you if you do, and your father will support you if you don't. We are your parents, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I guess I just need more time to think. I'll talk to Drew, Ben, and Clay tomorrow about it, see what they have to say."

She smiles at me. "That's a good idea."

Dad looks up from his plate. "I think Clay might be dropping out."

This was news to me. "What? Why? What did he say?"

I know why, though. Clay is not villainous at all. He's a good person, and while he exceeds at his regular classes, he's failing Combat Techniques. He just can't seem to kill the heroes. They're not even actual heroes, they're LMDs! I tell him to grow a spine. It might not be the nicest thing to say, but it's true.

Dad looks at me with sympathy. "I had to talk to him about his Combat Techniques grade...if he doesn't bring it up, he'll have to repeat 2nd year. I talked to him about possibly not continuing. He seemed to agree to the idea. I know he's your friend, Dyls, but I don't think he's really cut out for E.V.I.L."

"On the bright side, though," he continues, "you'll still have Drew and Ben. I'm pretty sure they're continuing. You can still see Clay outside of school, too."

I nod absentmindedly. "I guess it's his choice. And you're right."

Mom starts to talk to Dad about some sort of sale at a store or whatever. I finish my dinner.

I wish I didn't have to choose.

 **So, this is** _ **Perspective**_ **! How're you liking it so far? Is Dylan any better than in To Be Evil? Please tell me your thoughts and opinions! Favorite line/part/person?**

 **Also, I have a cast list for you! Yay! I'm really into cast lists, it gives you a chance to really visualize the characters. Here's the one for** _ **Perspective**_ **:**

Quinn Lord as Dylan Masters

Hugh Jackman as Taskmaster

Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Doom

David Mazouz as Andrew "Drew" Von Doom

2012 Connor Jessup as Ben Welles

Asa Butterfield as Jace Hardy (I'm sorry, I know I originally said he was blonde but Asa has the eyes...)

 **More characters will be added to the list as I introduce them, because I'm still not entirely sure who will be appearing.**

 **Feedback/reviews are welcomed and spray painted rainbow!**


End file.
